Are You Santa?
by Ali Maximum
Summary: "You can't be Santa," she said, moving forward. "You're not fat enough." The little girl poked Alex in the stomach, as if to prove her point. "And you're dirty… If you're not Santa, why'd you come down my chimney, then?"


**A short, sweet one-shot for those who are missing Christmas and the cold just as much as I am.**

**Rated T for language. There's some choice words in here.**

**Not compliant with Scorpia Rising, in case you were wondering. Alex is seventeen now and has gone on numerous missions.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider.**

…

There were one hundred and twenty-seven things that Alex Rider knew he'd rather be doing on the night before Christmas. Oh, yes. He'd counted them all. You couldn't blame him; all there was to do in this cell he was trapped in was to stare at the wall and think. Alex had simply put all of his thoughts into plotting out a list of things he'd rather be doing.

Number one would be spending the night at his own house, with Jack and a few of his friends, possibly. You know, safe in his own home?

But that was out of the question now. So, he'd have to go back to number two: getting the hell out of here.

Getting up, Alex went over to the bars in the front of his cell. He looked through them to see if anyone was there. Seeing no one, he pulled the key he'd snitched from the guard earlier out of his pocket. It had been almost frightening easy. Sticking his arms through the bars, the teenager used the key and unlocked the padlock holding the cell door shut. The door swung open with a squeak that made him wince. But still no one came.

As he ran up the stairs, trying to remember the way out of this hellhole, Alex mused how easy this was. _They just don't make bad guys the same way anymore_, he thought, throwing open a door that led to the front entryway.

That was when the gunshots rang out.

_That's more like it_.

Sadly, the seventeen-year-old was more in his element when things were complicated. And guns, knives, and just weapons in general definitely made things complicated. He ducked and weaved around furniture as he made his way towards the door. A man appeared in front of him, wielding a handgun. Almost unthinkingly, Alex stepped forward and grabbed the enemy's wrist. Twisting it, he brought his opposite knee into the man's diaphragm. The gun was dropped as the man recoiled in pain and tried to regain his breath. Alex kicked down at the guy's left knee, breaking it. Once he was down, the spy ran for the door again after picking up the fallen gun.

No one else got in his way as he opened the doors and sprinted out into the freshly fallen snow. The adrenalin kept the cold away for now, but who knew how long that would last?

More gunshots rang out from the roof of the building Alex had just exited. He ducked behind a tree and returned fire. There was a scream as someone was hit and fell off the roof. The teenage spy noted it with grim satisfaction; one less guy to shoot at him. He took in a deep breath before heading out from under the cover of the tree and running from the building.

Within moments, he hit the woods that surrounded the property. That didn't make him lessen his pace, however. No, he kept at the same dead sprint, jumping over roots and fallen trees. There were crashing noises from behind him and the baying sounds of bloodhounds as a team chased after him. They weren't about to let him get away.

Something warm began to trickle down his side. _Shit_, thought Alex. The extreme exercise had torn out the stitches of his knife wound. It had begun to bleed again. Thinking quickly, he figured that the nearest town was only a mile or so away, once he got out of the woods. Although he wasn't sure if he could make it, he knew he would have to. Capture was not an option.

Fifteen minutes later found Alex still being pursued by the gun-toting team. He entered the town, a small, unassuming place with plenty of people living in it. Yet, the pack behind him hadn't brought silencers; they'd alert everyone to their presence. From somewhere within the time, a clock tower began to toll, loudly. There were twelve rings. Midnight.

"Merry Christmas, Alex," he muttered to himself, as he paused in an alley to catch his breath. Fire was shooting up his side now and he thought he might not make it much farther.

There were barks from the dogs as they scented him again. "Jesus," he breathed, looking around in the alleyway. His breath formed a cloud around his nose and mouth, and he could feel the chill setting in now. He needed a way out – and fast. That was when he spotted the fire escape. Quickly, he flicked the safety on his gun and shoved it into the waistband of his pants. Ignoring the freezing state of the metal bars, he scampered up the fire escape. But he didn't stop at the first story. Instead, he kept on climbing up to the roof of the building. He fell to his stomach at the top, peering over the edge as the team that'd been following him entered the alley.

"Where the hell'd he go?" demanded one of the men. There were five of them, and they had three dogs, as well.

"Dunno. The dogs lost the scent here," growled another.

One of the men looked around. "Okay. You two go up there; we'll take the dogs and go this-a-way," the man who must've been the leader said.

"_C'mon_," Alex groaned, getting up and running across the roof. There was a small distance between the next building, which he leapt across, landing in a crouch. He let out a hiss of pain as the impact jarred his injury. Somehow, he got up and kept running across the roof. Two more leaps brought him to the roof of a house, no more apartments buildings.

"There he is!" came the shout from behind him, accompanied by a gunshot.

Instinctively, Alex ducked, and the bullet went far over his head. He turned around and whipped out his own stolen gun, flicking off the safety as he fired once, twice. One bullet hit a man, the other missed. But the man who was hit slipped on the snow and slid off the roof, taking his friend with him.

_Good riddance_, thought Alex. But he knew this respite wouldn't last long. He needed to get off the roofs. Now.

He looked around, trying to find something that would help him down. A tree, a conveniently placed ladder, whatever. But, just his luck, there was nothing. The man who hadn't been shot, just wiped off the roof by his buddy, was getting to his feet. Alex needed to get out of there, ASAP. His eyes caught something. _Well… That'd work_. Running at it, he heard the gunshot, even as the bullet whizzed past his head.

The chimney loomed up in front of him. His only hope were the giant pine trees that shadowed the house. The gun-wielding men wouldn't be able to make him out, so hopefully, they wouldn't see what he was about to do. Maybe they'd continue running, searching.

_Yeah, right_.

Alex got to the chimney and, without breaking stride, dove into the opening the chimney provided. As he fell down the chimney, he had one more thought. _Please let there be no fire at the bottom of this thing_.

Luck was on his side for once, because the fireplace was empty. Still, the impact hurt, even as he wrapped his arms around his head and rolled out of the fireplace, trying to cushion the fall. Now he was covered in soot, and he stood up, attempting to cough quietly. There was a wince as he realized his side hurt more than ever. Still, he paused to listen. There weren't any sounds, which he took to mean that no one had heard him.

Carefully, he looked around. A dazzling pretty Christmas tree stood in one corner, waiting for presents to be placed under it. The living room, he surmised. Stepping out through the doorway, into the hallway, Alex glanced around again. Then, he saw a light at the end of the hall. A nightlight in the bathroom. He crept quietly to the bathroom, needing some medical supplies. Just enough to keep him patched up until he could reach his allies. Flipping on the light, he took in the small space before searching through everything. Sure enough, there was a small first aid kit in the cabinet under the sink.

Thanking God and whoever else might be listening, Alex dug through the kit, finding some gauze and tape. He lifted up his shirt and saw that he had bled through the bandages. Grimacing, he took the old ones off, then replaced it with the gauze and taped it down. With the long bandages that were also in the kit, he wrapped them around his torso to keep the gauze on throughout any maneuvers he might need to pull. Alex pulled his shirt back down and replaced the first aid kit. Then, he opened the medicine cabinet to see if he could push his luck and find some pain medication. All that he could find was a little bottle of Ibuprofen, which he ended up taking some of. Those would have to work for now.

Alex closed the cabinet and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It wasn't a pretty sight. Rather than focusing on that right now, he turned away. There was a noise from outside the room, a squeak of the floorboards, so Alex reached for his gun. But it wasn't there.

_Dammit!_ When he'd fallen down the chimney, it must've fallen out of his waistband. Slowly, he turned the light off and crept back out of the room. He crossed back down the hallway and peered into the living room. There was no one there, but his gun was out in plain sight, surrounded in a circle of soot. Shaking his head, he picked it up and checked to see how much ammunition it had left. One shot. He could manage with that. As he was putting it back in his waistband, he heard the floorboards creak again.

"Are you Santa?" Alex's head whipped around, and he spotted a little girl standing there. She couldn't have been older than four. Standing there in her faint pink nightgown, she couldn't have looked any more innocent. She let out a little yawn and rubbed her eyes with her pudgy fist.

"What?"

"You can't be Santa," she said, moving forward. "You're not fat enough." The girl poked him in the stomach, as if to prove her point. "And you're dirty… If you're not Santa, why'd you come down my chimney, then?"

"Uh…" He was caught off guard.

"You're a stranger. You better talk fast or I'll call my daddy. He's got a shotgun," threatened the little girl.

Alex had to think fast, to salvage what he could from this situation. "You're right, I'm not Santa. I'm… an elf."

Her eyes got wide. "Are you Santa's elf?"

"Sure." Whatever got this kid off his back. He stood up and looked around, trying to find another way out of here. Then, he felt a tug on his pant leg. Looking down, he saw that the little girl had her thumb in her mouth now. "What?"

"But why are you here?"

Alex ran a hand through his hair before crouching down to get to her height. "Um… I'm a special type of elf… I go down the chimneys before Santa to… Make sure all the kids are asleep."

She didn't look like she believed him. "Really?" she asked.

"Really." Usually, it was amusing and a little bit sad, how easily children swallowed stories that were told to them. But not this one. He got an idea of how to get her out of the way so he could continue to make his escape. In a conspiratorial whisper, he looked her in the eyes and said, "Do you know what happens if I come down here and the kids aren't asleep?"

If it was possible, her eyes got wider. "What?"

"I tell Mr. Clause and he leaves without giving the children in the house any presents." He had to hide a smile as the girl suddenly looked really scared at the thought of no presents. "So, here's my question… Are you asleep?"

There was no way that the little girl could've run up the stairs any faster. Alex couldn't hold back a small chuckle as he watched her go. Slowly, he stood back up and stretched his muscles, feeling the ripple of pain across his side. Time to get going again. He found his way to the back door, unlocked it, and slipped outside. As he crossed the yard, something flashed out of the corner of his eyes. When he looked up, he saw the little girl holding her curtain open, looking at him with wide eyes.

Alex held up a hand in farewell. The girl pushed her face up to the window and said something, waving with both of her hands. He couldn't make out what she said, but he knew what she had meant.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," he whispered before sneaking out onto the street and running away before anyone else could see him.

…

**The End.**

…

**If you took the time to read my Christmas rambling, could you take the time to review, please?**


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